


Impact

by Angryangryowl



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crash Landing, Hurt/Comfort, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Major Character Injury, Stranded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/pseuds/Angryangryowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their return journey from Snoke's palace, Kylo's emotions run strong, leading to their crash landing on a forested planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KaiserPhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserPhoenix/gifts).



> For @KaiserPhonenix who wanted Kylux hurt/comfort. There is hurt and there will most definitely be comfort ;)
> 
> Just to clarify, this is an ongoing work and there will likely be 2 or 3 more chapters! I accidentally marked it as complete when I posted it, but don't worry, our boys will live to fight another day!

Piloting shuttles is one of the things Hux understands far better in theory than he does in practice. The best pilots, the truly talented ones, had to be reckless. Throwing yourself in a small metal container travelling at breakneck speeds through the many dangers of deep space required a certain amount of blind faith that everything would work out, despite the evidence to the contrary. Hux was not a reckless man. He knew the strategic importance of calculated risk, and some of his greatest victories had come from some truly audacious decisions, but there were limits.

He glanced over at Kylo, asleep in the cramped bunk built into one wall of the shuttle, his hands tucked into his robe, his legs bent to fit a space meant for a much smaller man. Usually, Hux could delegate tasks to specialists, great leadership didn’t mean doing everything yourself. He could think of many things he’d rather do than wake Kylo and admit that he needed his help, however. He’d be particularly unbearable, especially when Hux was forced to mention his unusual skill as a pilot in trying to persuade him to take the controls.

Even travelling alone with Kylo hadn’t been as bad as Hux thought it might be. Kylo had flown the craft attentively and well, even if Hux would never admit it, the long journey to Snoke’s fortress. Even once they’d left the Finalizer safely behind and auto-pilot was engaged, he lay back in the cockpit, contentedly watching the stars, leaving Hux to his datapad and paperwork.

Being called to an audience with Leader Snoke in person was both an honour, and terrifying in equal measure. Mercifully, it had gone without a single hitch. Snoke, far smaller in person but still seated in a throne atop steep stone steps, had even praised his efforts in his own vague way. He seemed fair more interested in Kylo, instructing him to ‘Come closer, Ren. Let me touch you.’ Ren had looked like a frightened child, his face even paler than usual, the line of his full lips held deliberately firm against any sign of emotion, his dark eyes both fearful and revenant. He ascended the stairs slowly, keeping his eyes on Snoke’s face the whole climb.

Snoke held a wasted, greying hand to Kylo’s forehead, Kylo flinched away like he’d been burned audibly gasping his discomfort. Snoke’s other hand gripped his forearm, holding him in place as he replaced his hand on his brow. Hux could not see Kylo’s face, but from the tense of his shoulders, it was not a pleasant experience. He fell away, his shoulders heaving. Snoke murmured something to him, smiling and stroking his cheek affectionately as Kylo left. He took the stairs at speed, sweeping past Hux and out of the room, making no effort to hide the first few tears welling in his eyes.

Back at the shuttle, Kylo threw himself into the pilot’s seat and began pre-flight checks without so much as looking at Hux, angry tears silently slipping down his face. Hux dealt with Kylo’s emotions as he normally did, and ignored it. Pulling a harness around him, his eyebrows knitted together at a particularly jumpy take off.

‘If you really feel the need to damage something, at least wait until we are back on the ship.’

‘Shut UP!’ Kylo snarled through clenched teeth, his gloves creaking as he gripped the throttle tighter, the roar of the thrusters echoing his words.

‘What did the Supreme Leader say that upset you?’ Hux voiced after a few bone-rattling minutes as they successfully left the planet’s atmosphere, a few beeps and flicked switches confirming that autopilot had been engaged. 

Kylo turned in his seat, his eyes rimmed with pink and his top lip curled in rage. Hux kept his face impassive. ‘Why do you want to know?’ Kylo asked slowly, the strained quality of his words betraying the effort it took to remain seated.

‘Of course it’s of interest to me, any conversation between you and the Supreme Leader would-‘

‘Not this one, Hux.’ He laughed bitterly, interrupting.

Hux narrowed his eyes, unfastening his harness to stand. ‘Best if you leave that for me to judge, Ren. Whatever it is you’re known for, good judgement and rational decisions isn’t part of it.’ He’d drawn himself to his full height as Ren approached, his hands snapping to his sides, his back ramrod straight. 

Ren crossed the gap between them in a few deliberate steps, the smile twitching at one corner of his mouth was far more unnerving than his angry scowl. ‘Or you could stick to what you know, and leave my business to me.’ He growled

‘Of course, the strategy that’s worked so well in the past. I command my troops, hand Snoke victory after victory, and every time anything doesn’t go your way, you destroy everything in your path and make my whole damn existence a misery.’

Hux could feel the air around him crackling with tension, the low hum in his ears increasing in pitch, a warm prickling across his shoulders as Kylo glared, his eyes flaming with rage. Several bulbs popped on a control panel above his head, and a repetitive ‘bing’ sound from the cockpit threatened that more problems were imminent.

‘The only reason I kriffing breathe is because you and Snoke will it, and the only thing you repay me with is your ineptitude. I only allied with you because your Order might actually be useful, because Snoke felt we could achieve great things together, he never warned me – he knew and he could have TOLD me….’ Tears welled again as he slammed his fist against the wall. ‘I’m not your damn pet!’

‘Ren.’ Hux gritted his teeth against the next word ‘Please. I think you need to attend to that, and calm yourself…’ Three more bulbs popped overhead, scattering tiny fragments of glass into Kylo’s hair, another alarm sounded from the propulsion system as a horribly metallic tearing sound shook the side of the craft.

A morbid grin stretched Kylo’s tear-stained face ‘Scared, General?’

Hux sighed impatiently and elbowed his way past, melodrama wasn’t going to keep them alive if the airlock failed. The warning lights for the propulsion and ventilation systems blinked in the cockpit, whatever damage Kylo had done they would never get back to the Finalizer in their current state, and marooned without power in deep space would mean a slow death, how slow depending on which systems gave out first.

‘Computer, find nearby repair facilities.’ The comm system bleeped pathetically, the electronic voice replying that it would take them about two hours to reach the surface of a nearby planet, with any luck they could repair enough to limp back to the ship. The comm system piped up one more time ‘Autopilot disengaged: system failure. Returning to manual con-‘ before it died entirely, another warning light blinking frantically on the control panel. 

Hux swore under his breath as he threw himself into the pilot’s seat, calling over his shoulder ‘If you want to survive this, calm yourself, meditate, whatever you have to do. You’re tearing the damn thing apart!’  
Kylo had sunk to the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, his fingers drumming against his temples. No further sound came from the rear of the vessel, except the intermittent roar of the thrusters. The planet loomed large in the viewports as they approached, mostly a deep green patchwork of thick forest, most of one hemisphere covered by an expansive ocean. Any settlements were either hidden by dense forest or far too small to be noticeable from space. Trying to bring up more information about the planet on his datapad proved useless, Hux threw it into the co-pilot’s seat with a disgusted sigh. 

They didn’t really have to power for re-entry, as far as Hux understood, and a firm hand on the throttle only led to more distressed beeping. He called back to Kylo, still sobbing softly against the wall ‘I’m going to have to land, we won’t make it if we don’t get to the surface. I’d suggest you put a harness on because this is going to be rough…’

Ren ignored him, but soon began to scramble for a seat as entering the atmosphere rocked the tiny craft. Hux felt his shoulders tense in concentration as he willed the ship forward. Ground was in sight, but the angle was all wrong, Kylo was at his shoulder ‘Pull up! You’ll never make it!’

‘Perhaps if you hadn’t destroyed our propulsion system we’d be doing a little better…’

‘We can do this later, pull up, less power to thrusters, you’ll slam us into the mountains!’

‘I’ve got left and right, and down, but…’

‘Oh for the love of the Maker..’ Kylo undid his harness and reached over his shoulder, his hand covering Hux’s on the joystick and pulling the nose of the shuttle up just enough, adjusting the thruster control appropriately. He sighed in relief as they began a slow decent, before a world-shattering bang rocked the floor of the craft, a siren sounding from the back and more lights starting to flash.

‘Compressor’s gone, we’re losing power.’ Kylo fought to keep his voice calm and the joystick stable. With a second bang and a deep, metallic groan, the power died entirely, sending them plummeting for the ground. Kylo’s increasingly frantic ‘Pull up, pull up, for kriff’s sake pull up…’ next to his ear and a gloved hand clinging desperately to his uniform tunic was the last thing Hux heard and felt as they broke the tree line and slammed into the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Night was falling when Hux opened his eyes. He felt a little hazy, raising his hand to his face to investigate the stickiness around his left eye, fresh blood came away on his gloved fingers. There was an acrid smell, smoke and engine coolant that made him sit up a little sharper in his seat, his harness locking far too late and forcing him back down. It finds two ribs which are probably broken. Hux swears. He tuts at this and unlatches it. Where's Kylo? He vaguely remembers him standing, clutching at him as they descended, before all the air was knocked out of him on impact.

He stands, testing his weight on his legs at first. Nothing broken save his ribs, a few bruises, his neck was going to give him hell the next morning. The outdated technology of the harness and impact system that he had ordered replaced had probably saved his life, or at least prevented a severe head injury.

Kylo lay face-down towards the rear of the shuttle, like an out-sized, discarded plaything. Even under his robes, his left leg looked...wrong somehow. His ankle was bent at an impossible angle.  
His hair covered his face, it's thickly matted with more blood, difficult to tell where it's coming from. For all the death he's seen, all the troops he has sent knowingly to their end, he holds his breath for this one. He kneels at his shoulder and mercifully his training holds, his hands are calm and steady as he peels his collar aside and feels for a pulse. It takes a long moment to find, his skin is cool and clammy, and Hux's mind fills this moment with creative ways that Snoke may have him executed if Kylo dies.

Hux is not a religious man, the Order takes every scrap of faith he might have had, but he also silently thanks every force that he knows of when he finds a fluttering pulse. Steady breaths raise the hair on his arm, ghosting across the thin strip of skin between his glove and the sleeve of his tunic.

'Come on, Ren..' he coaxes, pushing the hair from his face. He's not unconscious, his eyes float open with a little prompting, but he looks groggy, mind and body not quite aligned yet. The blood mostly seems to be from his nose and lips, the lower half of his face has impacted hard with the floor. He tries to pull himself up to his elbows, his eyes watering and spilling tears as he winces in pain. 'Think my leg, my shoulder ah.. what happened?' his boot slips as he tries to move his leg, he yells, almost falling on his face again, coughing and splattering red from his split lip onto the metal floor

'Stop trying to get up.' Hux says, artificially calm. The smoke beginning to fill the rear of the shuttle would overwhelm both of them given a few more minutes. 'We crashed, I have some co-ordinates, but first we need shelter. The remnants of the compressor could explode at any second, or the fuel tank for the thrusters will ignite, neither would be ideal. I have no idea what or who lives on this planet, and I'd rather not find out. You're going to listen to me, and we're going to get out alive. Got it?'

Kylo nods weakly, his face still tear streaked. It burns him to be entirely unable to fight through his injuries as he has in the past, the Force can power him through many things but even he can't walk on a broken leg. He’s too exhausted, too emotional, unfocused. The smoke is building, stinging Hux's eyes and clawing at his throat and nose. There's tranquiliser shots in the med kit, but he can't waste the few minutes it will take them to kick in, they’ll choke. 'This is going to hurt like seven hells, hold your breath and grit your teeth.'

Just as Kylo starts to ask what exactly is going to hurt, he is hauled over Hux's shoulder and is cursing his name, along with his parents, through gritted teeth. Hux swears he'll snap a tooth, he's tensing his jaw so hard. He can hear him murmuring under his breath, reaching out to the force for comfort. His voice cracks and breaks, he gives the occasional soft whine of pain into the wet wool of Hux’ greatcoat. 

Hux tramps across the wet leaves up the first shallow slope of the mountains, hoping for some shelter from the heavy rain he can hear hissing against the scalding metal of the wrecked shuttle. The planet is covered with thick deciduous woodland, a lush cover of curling purple ferns surrounding the thick tree trunks. Kylo is incredibly heavy but they need to get far enough from the shuttle to be out of range if the fuel tank to the thrusters catches light. When it catches light.

They stumble a few more miserable minutes, Hux’s boots struggle to find purchase on the saturated ground of the slope. He slides, grabs at a root and slips on his face, Kylo falling half under him, his ankle twisting under Hux’s weight. He’s snarling and keening in pain, his cheeks streaked with tears. ‘You have to - AH!’ He tenses his jaw again, biting down on the words. He can’t even lift his arm to swat Hux away.

‘Stop twisting it!’ Hux spits, racking his brain for field medical training. He should splint it, really, and prevent any further movement. His shoulder looks dislocated, his arm hanging limply at one side, there’s a slick of half-clotted blood matted into his hairline. He can’t tend to any of these things effectively with no medkit. If he pops his shoulder back in wrong, if Ren tenses and fights him, he’ll sever a blood vessel. Ren’s eyes are wild and frightened in the fading light, darting from the leaden clouds to the rising black smoke, to Hux’s face. Each deep inhale through his nose to try and calm and comfort himself is hissed back through his teeth, catching on shallow sobs.

He picks himself up, leaving Ren on his back. He has to make a decision, prepare for a few days without support or rescue if necessary. He doesn’t examine that thought further. They need shelter, a position possible to defend from any hostile local species, the med kit. Most of their belongings are in the storage lockers close to the engine, but he can probably get the emergency lightstick and medkit from the cockpit if he’s fast. He nudges Ren’s uninjured shoulder. ‘I have to go back for the med kit, stay still!’. An ominous clap of thunder swallows the last few words, Ren reaches for Hux as he goes, slipping back down the slope towards the wreck, skidding the last few paces.

The smoke is syrupy thick now, spilling from the deep gashes in the side of the shuttle where parts have exploded or been ripped away. He could just about get in through the escape hatch beneath the cockpit, it was closer to the medkit and with a little luck, he could be out quicker. Ren would be far more bearable made comfortable, he reasoned, wrenching the hatch open with a metallic screech and taking a lungful of air before ducking in. The medkit is wedged under the pilot’s seat with an oxygen mask, light sticks and emergency rations. He hooks a finger underneath the whole bundle, wriggling it loose, forgetting the smoke for a second in his struggle to reach for it and getting a lungful. He emerges, spluttering and choking, into the rainy night. He cracks a light stick, the ghostly glow illuminating a few paces around him, and sets off back up the slope towards Ren.

It’s getting dark, and the storm is settling it for the night. He hears a blistering crack of lightning in the mountains, it lights the whole sky and Ren’s face as he reaches him. He’s still lying in the hollow where Hux left him, soaked to the bone. His bottom lip has split again under his repeated bites and blood trickles down his chin. He gazes hopelessly up at the sky. Hux tucks the glowstick into his belt, kneeling down to Ren, who looks at him blankly for a second before smiling gorily up at him. ‘You came back..’

‘I only went to get the damn medkit, you’ll need something stronger than the Force for popping that shoulder back in. I’m going to be incredibly offended if neither of us survive this, so here’s what we’re going to do. I can see a cave on that next ledge, we can assess the damage there and get some shelter. I’m going to pull you onto my back, use your uninjured arm and your legs and hang on. Understand?’ He’s yelling into Ren’s ear over the thunder by the end, but Ren nods weakly and struggles up onto one elbow, and onto his front, on one hand and one shaking knee. Hux crouches in front, reaching behind for Ren’s outstretched arm, hauling him onto his back.

Ren moans in pain, resting his cheek against the back of Hux’s shoulder, hanging on like a drowning man with one arm, his muscular thighs gripping around his slim hips. This is utterly hopeless, but Hux finds the same steel in him that got him through field training. If they have to crawl to that cave, if it takes all night, then so fucking be it. He didn’t come this far to be taken down by some rain-soaked hell hole or Kylo Ren.

He pulls them up the steep slope, managing to half-walk, half-crawl most of it. Over the final rocky lip onto the precipiece, he drags them with his hands, his elbows, his scrabbling fingers, mud-slicked boots kicking at tree roots until they are finally over the edge. Each heaving breath is like a branding iron on his aching ribs. They lay on their backs, rain spattering their faces and the rock around them, and breathe for a few long moments. He can hear Ren’s teeth chattering in the gaps between the roar of his breath in his ears and the cackling thunder.

He drags him inside, one hand under his arm and the other gripping the front of his robes. It’s a shallow cave, but sheltered enough by the surrounding rock to be dry, and littered with piles of autumn’s dead leaves. He leaves Ren on his back, his head on Hux’s rolled uniform tunic. The emergency kit is stocked with enough for a few days for one person. They’ll have to improvise. There are sparksticks and a solid block of fuel, which will fuel a fire for a night. Supplemented with some leaves they can at least attempt to dry out.

He coaxes a steady flame into life. He wonders exactly what Phasma would think if she could see him now. Caked in dirt and blood, soaked, shivering. Tending to Ren. He gives him the first shot of a strong painkiller, and a muscle relaxant. Ren mumbles something about the Force but offers up his arm for the needle anyway. Hux finds himself making an effort to be gentle, sliding up his sleeve, sanitizing a patch of pale skin. Finding a vein is more difficult than he realized, although he’d always thought he’d make a good medic. Despite all of this being Ren’s fault, it seems pointless causing him to suffer more. Strange. Usually Hux took great pleasure in watching ren suffer. 

He relaxes after a few minutes under the drugs, his dirt-encrusted face a little more peaceful. His full lips parted a little. Hux takes this opportunity to check the dried blood around his hairline. He brushes aside the filthy locks of hair, they peel away from his forehead revealing only dried blood and a cut to his hairline. Some luck at least, if Hux could call it that. 

Hux kneels at his shoulder, taking Ren’s right hand in his right, so his elbow is at a right angle, and gripping the bicep just above his elbow with his left. Textbook, he hopes. ‘You’ve done this before, General?’ Ren murmurs sleepily. 

He avoids the question with ‘Stay awake for now.’ He’d never had to do this personally, but he had seen it done during has Academy and field training days. He knows he’s supposed to distract Ren, he’s seen scared boys made to count down from five and the joint popped back at three. Unable to think of anything good, he pulls, slow and firm, hearing the reassuring clunk of the joint and Ren’s gasp of relief. 

‘Better?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

‘Keep it still while I check your ankle. Enjoy those painkillers while they last.’

Ren grunts in response, resting his hand on his chest and letting his eyes drift to the roof of the cave once more. 

Hux unfastens Ren’s boot, trying to be delicate but even Ren’s leg is a deadweight. He eases it off, Ren doesn’t make a noise but tenses as best he can under the effects of the muscle relaxant, fisting his hand in the front of his robes, his eyes watering from the pain. Hux leaves the fact that Ren does not wear socks for another conversation.

The heavy smell of blood and sweat turns Hux’s stomach. Without the heavy stitched hide of Ren’s boot holding it in place, his foot hangs limply to one side. A bloodied spike of white bone is protruding from the skin a hand’s breadth above the joint. The area around it is angry red and swelling, bluish closer to the ankle joint. His stomach objects a little more violently

Hux turns to the medkit. There’s a small, cheap mediscanner. It takes a moment to power up, the screen glowing a soothing blue for a moment before the battery dies and it blinks out again. Maintenance are apparently slacking again. He puts it aside with a disgusted sigh . He examines the rest of the medpac. Irrigation bulbs, antibiotics, bacta patches, standard bandages. A couple more pre-loaded syringes of a strong painkiller and a couple of bone stabiliser. No diagnostics, but aside from his gruesome fracture, a few cuts, and a shoulder that will give him hell in the morning, there’s nothing to stop Ren surviving the night if Hux can clean and splint his wound.

‘I heard that.’ Ren slurs, sounding almost drunk from the painkiller.

‘Get out of my head, Ren.’ He’s too tired to get angry and just sounds fatigued.

‘That’s going to hurt, isn’t it?’

He glances at Ren’s face in surprise. He doesn’t usually appear deterred by pain, Hux has always thought he sees his injuries as some strange badge of honour or a penance for past crimes. ‘Yes. But it will hurt a lot less and you’ll save your foot if I clean it, bacta patch and splint it now. This is not the best place to get gangrene or whatever the local flesh-eating virus happens to be.’

He sanitizes his hands and pulls on the thin gloves. ‘I never thought I’d say it, especially not expecting you to listen. But you’re going to have to trust me.’

‘I do trust you, General. There’s nobody else I can trust.’

 

Hux opens his mouth to respond, can’t come up with anything suitably sincere or suitably cutting, and closes it again. He returns to Ren’s ankle, squeezing an irrigation bulb over the wound. The skin around it fizzles faintly. Ren’s head lolls back, but his jaw is tensing like he is trying very hard to think of something pleasant. Hux remembers enough from field training the bone has to be put right - into a position where it can heal, before bacta is applied. He shuffles down so he’s kneeling at Ren’s feet. The bone has fractured at an angle, and slid down so it runs adjacent to the rest of the leg. Besides looking spectacularly gory, it looks exceptionally painful. He firmly grasps Ren’s heel. ‘Don’t fight it, you’ll tear something. Ready?’

Ren nods briskly, there’s a sharp click and a muffled curse from Ren, and the bone is no longer protruding from his leg. He breathes deeply as Hux stems the bleeding, applies the bacta patch as delicately as he can, and splints his ankle. Ren still has his eyes closed, his nostrils flaring with each deep breath. Attempting to call on the Force in his time of need.

‘Think of what Lieutenant Mitaka looks like naked.’ Hux suggests

‘Fuck off, Hux.’ 

****  
It must be the middle of the night before they attempt to sleep. Hux can survive on very little, but he’s exhausted more than usual after the day’s events. Ren is hazy still. Hux’s greatcoat is still damp in places, but dry enough from the fire to offer some comfort. He starts putting it around his shoulders when his brain reminds him that it would be a terrible waste of all his efforts if Ren died of shock of hypothermia or whatever people died of in the night, 

He drapes it over him without explanation, rolling onto his side with his back to Ren. His exhausted mind is meandering around the idea that closer to the fire would have been much better when Ren’s voice murmurs behind him.

‘Come here.’

‘Are you ill?’

‘No more than I was five minutes ago, but it’s cold. You’re cold. I have your coat and your tunic. I can share.’

‘Get some sleep, Ren.’

Ren lets the silence hang in the air for a few minutes, Hux thinks he’s fallen asleep until he adds ‘I’m not asking you to marry me, you know.’

Hux doesn’t like his tone, and is close to informing him of fifteen reasons why Ren is the last person in the system Hux would want to marry. But he’s so tired his whole face aches, his ribs protest however he lies on the cold stone and there’s no sign of a rescue tonight. Why shouldn’t he take some comfort? He turns towards Ren, huddling at his back, his arms wrapped around himself and his forehead between Ren’s shoulder blades. His arm slips hesitantly around Ren’s waist and rests on his stomach. Ren is warm and still smells faintly of incense, even if he is still caked in dried mud and blood

 

Hux sleeps soundly curled against Ren’s back. Until tomorrow at least.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive response to this story, I'm really enjoying the slow burn of this actually (for me, it's slow burn :P). More again soon <3

The next morning dawns cold and misty, but at least the rain has stopped. Hux can barely move, there isn't a part of his body that doesn't hurt in some way. He's not quite prepared to move away from the solid warmth of Ren and face the reality of a morning, with no sign of rescue and marooned on a strange planet with the man he is currently wrapped around. Who was still slumbering if his deep, steady breaths are anything to go by. This is definitely preferable to either of them succumbing to shock or a mysterious and vicious local bacterium in the night.

Hux shifts carefully onto his back, keeping his cheek and ear, the whole right side of his body pressed close to Ren. His hand resting on his own stomach so that his elbow tucks neatly into the small of Ren’s back. He still hasn't examined in detail why he doesn't want to be away from him or feels compelled to keep checking that the idiot’s heart still thumps lazily in his chest, as clumsy and powerful as the rest of him, and that his ribs continue to rise with each inhale. Hux feels strangely at peace in the midst of so much disaster, huddled under his greatcoat and peeking over the collar at a growing patch of clear blue sky above the mouth of the cave. He can hear birds beginning to chatter outside. They are both alive, Ren is peaceful next to him, and he feels something like gratitude swelling in his belly and a small smile on his lips that he's not alone here. He presses his lips to the rough cloth covering Ren’s back. He never needs to know about this.

He turns his attention to his aching legs for a moment, slowly extending one, pointing his toes and easing each protesting muscle and joint into a stretch, feeling a little spark of relief at each click and crack of his stiff knees and ankles. He repeats this with the other leg, lastly shifting his weight onto his feet and upper back so he can arch his hips and spine, a soft but audible moan of relief escaping his lips after popping one hip just so. He wasn't that old, but he was used to a certain level of comfort. Even on field training, he'd slept poorly, much preferring his bed.

Ren shifts onto his back with a groan, wincing as he remembers his recently relocated shoulder. 

‘Good morning.’ Hux says pointedly after Ren nearly flattens him in the process. He grimaces as he turns his head to look at Hux. 

‘Hello, General.’ 

‘How’s the pain?’

‘Like I slept under a bantha.’ He experimentally shifts his shoulders. ‘But mostly in one piece. I’m hungry though..’

Hux considers pointing out all the much larger problems facing them than Ren’s stomach but instead sits up. He's hungry himself, he hasn't eaten since they left Snoke’s planet, nearly two days ago. The fire is still glowing in some spots amongst the grey embers. There are emergency rations, a thick and calorific gruel in powder form in the medkit, designed to be mixed with cold water, or eaten dry if you were feeling brave. There’s a dozen or so portions of instant bread as well, although that will definitely require clean water.

Ren interrupts his train of thought ‘Hux?’

He feels a prickle of irritation at the lack of a title, but will let it slide for now. ‘Yes, Ren?’

‘Help me sit up?’ Then after a moment’s consideration ‘Please?’ 

He really does look pathetic like he is, mud and spots of blood still smeared across his cheeks, his hair matted and stuck to the side of his face. His big eyes staring up at Hux balefully. They’re not actually brown as he first thought. Closer to hazel, with flecks of gold and green towards the centre. Curious. Hux sighs in annoyance, dispelling this thought. ‘Fine. But sit against the wall, I have nothing to prop you up with.’ He stands with a groan, gripping Ren under his arms and easing him upright, before pulling him the few paces to sit against the wall. Ren holds in a whimper as he's dragged across the floor.

He relaxes a little once he's seated. ‘Better?’

‘Yeah, thanks. Have you managed to hail anybody?’ His jaw is clenched and his eyes water at the pain from his ankle, but Hux feels strangely appreciative at the brave face he’s putting on.

‘No, the commpad and my commlink are still in the shuttle, what's left of it, and even if it hasn't been completely incinerated, the comm system was offline even before we crashed. It's unlikely we could link to anything. With some luck both of our trackers are still transmitting and they find us in the next few days.’

Kylo nodded at the new information. ‘Do you have a blaster?’

‘Yes, it's in my coat but there's no evidence this planet’s inhabited. We need to find fresh water that we can boil.’

‘Not inhabited by sentients, I can't sense anything. But there are blackblacks, birds, nesting at the foot of the cliff. It's damp down there, good for worms, lots of foliage for nesting. I heard them last night. They're all over the galaxy, they get fat easily and they're stupid so they get brought on freighters a lot. We probably weren't the first to crash here.’

‘Can you..eat them?’

‘Yeah, It's kinda gamey but it's good. Cantina food, filling, greasy and cheap. They're not hard to catch.’ 

Ren’s assumption that Hux will be feeding him annoys him at first, but after all he'd done last night it was pointless pretending that he didn’t have a preference one way or the other about Ren’s survival. He still niggled at him, like an insect bite or the beginnings of a headache, but it seemed counterproductive to argue and snipe with seemingly the only intelligent life for miles.

He starts digging through the medkit, there’s a small section at the bottom under several interlocking plastic trays marked ‘Subsistence Kit’. Inside he finds a folding plastic bag with a tap meant for carrying water, and a small metal dish, cup and spoon along with the subsistence rations, spark sticks, a fishing line and hook, and brief instructions.

He picks up the sparksticks and the water carrier from the medkit, his blaster and a small but lethally barbed knife from a hidden pocket in his greatcoat, and Ren’s lightsaber from the pile of discarded possessions by the fire. He slips the blaster and knife into his belt (going into unknown territory unarmed was just idiotic), the rest of the equipment into the pockets of his jodhpurs, and leaves the saber in Ren’s lap with a curt ‘It would be unfortunate to need it and not be able to reach it’

Ren nods, although they are both aware how much good he will be against an attacker in his current state. ‘Be careful, Hux.’ It sounds almost affectionate.

Negotiating the descent is easier in daylight and now the rain has eased off. The wreck of the shuttle actually lies in a deep, natural basin at the foot of the mountain, he can just see a scorched tail fin protruding through the trees. It’s still a steep and muddy half-climb, half slide, and he’s secretly glad that nobody is here to see him slow his descent grabbing tree roots and swearing when he slips. It makes logical sense to go slowly, there is nobody to drag him up the cliff if he breaks his ankle and they will both starve. He did not struggle and stab his way to the rank of General to die in a muddy ditch in at the arse end of nowhere.

He hikes a short way into the trees, away from the shuttle. He hopes if he continues in a straight line, keeping the mountains behind him, he will not end up horribly lost. The first hints of fear have crept in, although he hasn’t acknowledged them skulking at the back of his mind. What if rescue doesn’t come? What if one of them dies? What if the food runs out? It’s eerily quiet here after the constant organized cacophony of the Finalizer, with alarms, alerts, comm messages and endless talking. Here there's only the soft swoosh of the wind in the trees, the cooing and flutter of birds overhead. The sound of running water is promising, and after a few minutes striding through the damp leaves he comes to a large and deep pool.

Trees grow right up to the bank, the water is only disturbed by stray leaves and a high, narrow waterfall which feeds the pool at one end, a mist of droplets veiling it towards the surface. It’s the sort of place his mother would tell him about before his father told her Hux was too old for stories.

The water is cool and clear, the pebbles at the bottom visible almost to the middle. He gathers a full container, and wonders if this might be a better place to bathe Ren’s wounds. He tries not to dwell on how good the cool water would feel on his dirt-caked skin and aching joints. Back to matters at hand, fresh meat and sustenance for both of them. He already feels lightheaded and irritable from hunger and days without caf.

The blackblacks cluck and cackle and fuss at the foot of the steep cliff, the lip at the top forming the floor of the cave where Kylo is. They’re a little bigger than the Endorian chickens normally farmed for food, and don’t have the same distinctive crest. They are a sleek and glossy black, round little bodies with a small head that looked like it was added on as an afterthought, and a long plume of mottled feathers sweeping the ground behind them. 

The mossy dell they’ve made home is shady and dappled green in the sun, the only noise is a gentle wind in the trees and the soft chuckling of the birds as they peck at the dirt for food. The nests dotting the ground and the fact that they seem more curious about Hux’s presence than afraid are together strangely comforting. If there’s nothing that would steal away these fat, feathered things gathering around his ankles, there’s likely nothing that will want to make lunch of him and Kylo. He takes one, not wanting to get greedy. It settles in his arms, seeming to enjoy the new perspective.

 

He doesn't quite know why he takes it away from the flock and pauses for a second, soothing it with a gentle hand on its wings before he snaps it’s neck with one easy movement. He is seriously considering sending himself for reconditioning when they return to the ship. If they return.

Ren has managed to drag the medkit towards himself, using the Force Hux presumes, but cannot treat his ankle without twisting it horribly. He looks ready to snarl at Hux, or start throwing things, but instead he breaks into a smile, and when Hux scowls in return,, he laughs. ‘The almighty Starkiller returns with his prey!’

Hux considers dropping the four blackblack eggs he has also managed to gather over Ren’s head. But he is entirely filthy, holding a dead bird, and probably does look ridiculous. He counters with something about Ren smelling far worse than he looks, but it’s weak as his insults go and Ren scoffs at him.

Leaving the food in a cool corner, dreading plucking and gutting the bird, he kneels to clean his hands with a sharp-smelling wipe and examine Ren’s ankle. He remembers enough from field medic training that infection is always the enemy. Ren continues to watch him with curiosity as he carefully removes the splint and peels away bandages and the bacta patch. The wound where the bone pierces the skin is much the same, still grizzly, the edges are turning from a deep and angry red to a shiny pink where scar tissue is beginning to form. But no pus and little blood seems a good sign. He presses gently over the break with the pads of his fingers, cupping the ankle with his other hand so it doesn’t move too much.

The bone seems to be in place, not jutting out at some awful angle. Ren’s legs are as pale as his enormous feet, faint blue veins visible through his papery skin in places. The fact that he’s not all gears and machinery under his clothes, that his body is as real and breakable, skin and bones and blood and sinew, takes Hux by surprise a little.

Hux replaces the bacta patch, it should last another two days with luck, and bandages the ankle and the splint back into place.

‘It is healing, I’m not a medic but it was a messy break, it looks like it’s starting to heal on the surface though.’ He offers by way of reassurance, looking up at Ren. ‘I think we could both have come out of it a lot worse.’

Ren is still looking down at him like he hasn’t seen him before, like he’s some curious little creature worth examining. He smoothes a thumb over Hux’s grubby cheek before he moves away to start on dinner, and ignore the sudden, not unpleasant, twist in his stomach at the touch. 

He manages to pluck and gut the beast and gather enough leaves and firewood to create a good blaze and settle the legs, wrapped in large leaves into the embers around the edge. Fills the cup and dish with water and settles them in the embers to boil.

With little else to be done, he settles next to Ren with his back to the wall.

‘Do you think they’ll come for us, Hux?’

‘I don’t know. I would hope so, I’d like to think I was irreplaceable but..’ He shrugs. He should really be panicking about this more. 

‘What happens if they don’t?’

Hux shrugs. ‘We get used to the taste of blackblack and see if we can repair that shuttle.’ 

Watching the sun start to dip below the horizon, they eat their gruel and bread in a companionable silence. Hux shreds his meat into his bowl with a knife, Ren eats his greedily off of the bone, letting grease drip from his chin. Full and sleepy, they watch the sunset together. Ren’s hand slips into Hux’s at some point before it’s fully dark. Hux squeezes it, the barest sign of appreciation, as the first stars start to appear. 

He dozes against Ren’s shoulder in the glow of the fire, and drifting on the very edge of sleep, swears he feels the soft press of Ren’s lips to the top of his head.


End file.
